Grace stood in Mara's healing chamber, trying not to fidget as the older angel examined her wings.
"You're tense."
"I'm not tense."
"Your feathers are literally vibrating."
Grace forced her wings to still.
"Better?"
"Marginally." Mara's hands were warm as they traced along Grace's wing joints. "When's the last time you slept properly?"
"Define properly."
"More than six hours."
"Uh..."
Mara sighed. The sound carried all the exhaustion of someone who'd been trying to keep young angels alive for centuries.
"Grace..."
"I know, I know. Self-care is important. Can't save the world if I'm dead on my feet." Grace had told herself the same thing.
"I was going to say your left wing is slightly strained. Probably from that thing you do where you barrel-roll mid-flight for no reason."
[Oh.]
"That's... not usually intentional. I just suck at flying."
"Still?"
"It's rare that I actually get to practice. Usually I'm out on a mission, or..."
Mara smirked.
